


The Burning Question

by roidadidou



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: Cuphead and Mugman bother King Dice for stories of how the residents of Inkwell Isle ended up signing contracts.





	The Burning Question

“No! Of course not!”  


“Mind your own business.”  


“Why should I tell you?”  


And on, and on, and on. The question was simple; “Why did you sign a contract with the devil?” Yet Cuphead and Mugman couldn’t get a single answer from anyone they had saved. Why were they so tight-lipped about it? Were they embarrassed?  


“Golly, it’s not like they’re all by themselves. We did the same thing.” Cuphead stated as he absentmindedly skipped rocks on the lake’s surface.  


“Well, if they don’t want to tell us, then they shouldn’t.” Mugman added, pulling a long stick through the sand to watch the lines he made.  


They sat in silence for a bit.  


“I know who would tell us.” Cuphead finally said.  


“Who?”  


“King Dice! He helped write all the contracts, didn’t he?”  


“Geez, Cuphead, we shouldn’t bother him…”  


“We go in, we ask him to tell us a few stories, and we leave. It’s simple!”  


“He’s a busy guy, Cuphead. Not to mention that he hates us.”  


“Naw, he doesn’t hate us! Who could hate this face?” He mimicked baby talk, twisting his pointer finger into his cheek smugly.  


“If you say so…”  


“Come on!”  
___  


Perhaps he should have been on the casino floor, but the establishment’s manager had been saddled with paperwork. After all, someone had to keep the bars and kitchens stocked, and that meant the items in question had to be ordered. Writing down numbers while he multi-tasked with an abacus, he occasionally paused to crack his back while pulling his cigar out of his mouth. But he hadn’t expected to be interrupted.  


The door creaked open quickly, and Mugman was seen holding it with both hands, feet on the wooden frame. He dropped to the floor, and promptly threw himself into the chair across from King Dice’s desk. Cuphead followed through the doorway.  


“What are you doing here?!” King Dice snapped, his fists on his desk.  


“Haven’t you two caused enough trouble here? Get out!” He turned to see Cuphead opening his office room’s window.  


“Hey, shut that window! You’re gonna let in the screams of the damned!”  


Cuphead scoffed.  


“I had to let out all the cigar smoke!”  


“Son, this ain’t a cigar.” Dice chuckled, distracted by the assumption. His thumb and pointer finger pulled at his eyebrows, and he ground what we could now judge was some illegal substance into his ashtray.  


“What are you boys here for, anyway?” His hands intertwined, a slight slouch resting in his spine.  


“We figured you would have the… Information we needed.”  


“Oh, playing detective, are we?” The manager inquired.  


“You know, when I was your age, I was shining shoes for nickels. I wasn’t wasting my time like that.”  


“You were our age once?!” Mugman interjected. King Dice was a bit confused by the strange logic.  


“We figured you just sprouted out of the ground one day and started doing taxes.” Cuphead finished.  


“Or maybe the Devil made you with his magic!” Mugman continued, wiggling his fingers for effect. Dice blinked.  


“No, I can assure you that I grew up just like every other boy.”  


“Let’s start with you! How did you start working here?” Cuphead asked eagerly, fingers on the edge of the desk. King Dice placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his leather chair.  


“Well, that’s a complicated story, but I’ll dumb it down.  


“I come from a long bloodline of entertainers and businessmen. My parents owned a rinky-dink casino on the mainland; far off from Inkwell Isle. But we lost everything when the Depression struck; it drove my father off the wall. As soon as I heard about a casino that survived the crash, I came here to salvage what was left of my family’s dignity.”  
Cuphead and Mugman were astonished at his honesty and humility.  


“Really?”  


“No. I made all of that up on the spot. The Depression just kicked off a couple of years ago, boys, use your heads. I started here as a busboy so I could buy jewelry for some gal I was dating. Then I climbed the ladder.”  


“Oh.” The boys said.  


“That’s not as interesting.”  


“Nope.” King Dice retorted. Silence sat between them for a few seconds.  


“You get that information you were looking for?”  


“Oh! Uh, actually, we wanted to hear how some of our friends signed contracts with you.”  


“I see. I think I can remember a few, it’s been so many years for some of them. Have anyone in mind?”  


The brothers glanced at each other, as if to say ‘you first!’  


“Hilda Berg?” Cuphead asked delicately. King Dice’s eyes wandered upward, as one does when trying to remember.  


“Hilda, Hilda Berg… Yes, I remember her. She was young when she came to us; must’ve been straight out out of school…”  
___  
AUDITIONS TODAY: SHOWGIRLS, SINGERS, ENTERTAINERS  


The sign sat humbly in front of the theatre hall. There was a modest, yet surprising number of people lined up to audition. Most of the men and women there didn’t exceed middle age, yet some had passed over the hill. But one seemed to be younger than the others; she was frail in figure, with a nose that was large, but not distracting. Her hair sat in small curls to frame her blushed face.  


The door opened once again, with a saddened juggler leaving. King Dice called a name.  


“Hilda?” She perked up, approaching him.  


“Ah, you’re pretty. Hope you can impress us,” The manager taunted with a grin. She smiled shyly.  


The Devil pulled at a tangle in his fur, watching Hilda step onto the stage.  


“Go ahead and sing a song for us. Anything you know is fine.” He stated bluntly.  


She cleared her throat, and began to belt something that she had rehearsed. Unfortunately, she was just plain terrible. King Dice cringed, while the Devil’s ears fell backward in second-hand shame.  


“Stop! Stop!” He shouted. Hilda ceased. He scribbled on his paper.  


“I think that’s enough-”  


“No, wait!” Hilda was desperate.  


“What about a dance?” She pleaded. The Devil looked to his manager.  


“If you can do a nice duet with King Dice here, we’ll give you a second thought.” The business owner added, not expecting anything stunning. King Dice got on stage next to her, and held out a hand. Hilda took it reluctantly.  


Again, she failed to impress. She was slow, refusing to make eye contact with her partner. Instead, she kept her gaze at her figurative two left feet, until Dice yelped when one of them landed on one of his.  


The Devil’s frown twitched.  


“Alright, we’ve seen enough from you, sweetie. Nice try.”  


Hilda jumped down from the stage, hands clasped together.  


“Please, just consider me!”  


“Come on, we don’t need this pity party here-”  


“I’ll do anything!”  


The Devil’s ears perked up, and a cautious smile appeared.  


“Anything?”

\---

“If I sign this contract, you’ll make me a star?” Hilda asked cautiously, quill in hand.  


“Indeed-a-rooney, sweetheart.”  


“What’s the catch?” She asked again.  


“Well, just one small thing. You won’t even know it’s gone.”  


She read the contract with suspicious eyes.  


“My soul?!”  


“Come on, now. You want to be a shining star? Everyone will look up to you.”  


“... My name in lights?”  


“Sure, if you want.”  


“I… I guess I could.”  


“That’s the spirit!” The Devil concluded. And the parchment was signed.  


Hilda left the casino building nervously, passing by King Dice.  


“Sorry about your foot.” She muttered.  


“Oh, it’s fine. You get that contract?”  


She nodded.  


“He said he’d make me a star.”  


King Dice’s smile was fading, but not discouraging.  


“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then.”  


As she left, the manager immediately went to see his superior.  


“What kinda carnival trick did you pull on her this time?”  


The Devil chuckled mischievously.  


“She wants to be a star, I’ll make her a star. Up in the night sky, that is. She can play around with all the prancing Zodiacs every night if she wants. The girl was awful, you think I want her scaring my customers away?”  


King Dice put a gloved hand to his mouth.  


“You’re terrible.” He meant it, but was humored.  


“Don’t I know it.”  
___  


Cuphead and Mugman sat with stunned shock. Mugman gritted his teeth.  


“Why didn’t the Devil just give her a better voice?” Cuphead asked.  


“If I knew how that monster’s mind worked, I’d be in charge around here.”  


“Are all of your stories just people getting tricked with bad jokes?”  


“Pretty much. You’re the one who bothered me, don’t act so coy. Got another name?”  


Mugman rubbed his chin in thought.  


“What about the Blind Spector?”  


“Oh, now that one’s one to remember. A bit sad, though. He wasn’t always a spector; wasn’t always blind, either.”  
___  


The casino was hustling and bustling as it always was. It was in the early hours of the morning; outside of Inkwell Hell, the sun would be rising soon. And it was time for the manager to clock out and go home. But before he left, he would play a single game of poker with the regular gamblers he had come to know as friends.  


With his purple coat thrown over his shoulder, he sat down at a chair and was dealt a hand. Next to him was a trembling rookie to the game. He wore a blue train conductor’s suit, and was abstract in face in the fact that he was bearing only one eye.  


“Aren’t you the casino’s owner?” The rookie asked, stunned and scared.  


“Close. The manager.”  


“What are you doing playing poker here? Isn’t that kinda unfair?”  


“Nah; craps is my game. And I think being tired is a good handicap, ain’t it?”  


“And a little tipsy, eh?” One of his friends added jokingly. The table had a laugh.  


“What are you asking for, huh? You scared?” King Dice taunted.  


“This kid’s been playing for hours. He can’t keep a straight face! Don’t know where all that money comes from.” The dealer retorted, shuffling cards.  


The game was played while the group of buddies had their conversation. Eventually, the train conductor was forced to forfeit his hand.  


“It’s no fair; you guys keep looking at my cards!”  


“Sore loser?” One of the other players asked.  


“They’ve been doing that all night!” The conductor said again. Eventually, he stood.  


“I fold. You guys have been cheating all night.” The dealer took his chips.  


King Dice folded as well, standing and approaching the grumpy gambler. He put an arm around his shoulder.  


“You know, kid, if you wanna keep playing here, I know how to make it so only your own eyes go to your hands…” He whispered.  


“Really?”  


“All you need to do is sign a little dotted line.”  


The conductor stopped, thinking. Then he shook his head and pulled the manager’s arm away.  


“This whole place is rigged; that wouldn’t matter anyway! I’m outta here.” And he left in a tantrum. It was no skin off of Dice’s back; there would be two contracts signed for every one missed opportunity. He took his jacket and went home.

Rinse and repeat, Dice did the same thing the next morning; before he left, he sat down to play a round of poker with his friends. But he was surprised to see the conductor next to him again.  


“You came back, huh?”  


The conductor didn’t reply. He glanced at the manager nervously, then shrunk in his seat. King Dice didn’t pay it any mind, and kept playing.  


It was all fun and games until the conductor finally won a round. Dice patted him on the back while laughing, and it seemed that the table was a bit happy to see the underdog finally win. The conductor pulled his winning stacks of chips toward him, but his elbow accidentally knocked Dice’s over, scattering blue and red coins onto the ground. They both bent over to pick it up, but to everyone’s dismay, a second hand of cards fell out of the conductors sleeve.  


King Dice, slowly, painfully to the conductor’s eye, picked up the hand. His smile was gone. His face was neutral; painfully neutral. Disappointed. The poker table went silent. The dealer’s deck of cards froze in his hand. A lump formed in the conductor’s throat.  


“Cheating? In the Devil’s casino?” He asked. His voice was hushed; painfully quiet. The conductor began to shake.  


“Answer me. Say something.” His grip on the cards failed as he set the hand down on the table.  


_“Answer me!”_ He snapped, ripping the conductor from the ground, hoisting him up by his collar and shaking him.  


_“You dirty cheat! We’ll have your soul for this! There will be HELL to pay!”_  


The conductor was tugged violently through the casino, taking a swift walk of shame around tables where everyone could see the cheater. He found himself thrown on the ground. In front of him, the Devil’s desk.  


“A cheater, huh?” The Devil remarked, setting down his pen.  


“We’ll need to write up some kind of punishment… What do you recommend, my reliable manager?”  


King Dice tapped a finger to his chin.  


“I remember yesterday I made an offer he refused… When people had been gazing at his cards, I told him, ‘we can make it so only your own eyes are on your hands.’”  


“Ooohh, I like that,” The Devil said, already writing on parchment. The conductor slowly stood, shaking.  


“No, no, please- I’m sorry-”  


“Too late for that, my boy,” Dice set a firm grip on the conductor’s shoulder, forcing him down into a chair.  


“Sign the contract, and we’ll be done here.” The Devil stated.  


“I don’t want to-”  


The quill was forced into his hand. Dice forced his wrist down toward the paper.  


“Trust me, boy, it’ll be a lot worse if you don’t.”  


Near tears, the conductor signed.  


“One more thing;” The Devil added.  


“To fulfill your request, I’ll need to take this-” His finger and thumb, to the conductor’s surprise, gripped his eye, and slowly tugged.  


_POP!_  


Instinctively, the conductor reached toward his eye; but found nothing. Instead, he saw his own face. Hands trembling, and struggling to make sense, it took him a second to realize what had happened.  


Only his own eyes were on his hands. His palms turned to see King Dice and the Devil laughing.  
___  


Cuphead and Mugman began to get angry.  


“That’s awful! How could you do that?!” Mugman snapped.  


King Dice’s expression remained calm.  


“In all of my stories, you’re gonna hear that these people made that choice by themselves. Hilda chose to sign the contract, and the Blind Spector chose to cheat. My boss and I may bend the rules to get a cheap laugh, but every one of you brought that down upon yourselves. We don’t force you to set foot in this building.”  


The boys sat in silence, twiddling their thumbs in self-reflection. King Dice sighed.  


“I didn’t mean to upset you two.”  


They glanced up at him.  


“Why don’t I tell you one last story, this time more light-hearted? Maybe a bit funny now, after all that’s happened.  


“Alright.” They reluctantly replied.  


King Dice leaned back in his chair again.  


“I only know how this one goes because the boss told me so. Apparently, he had been watching it all unfold for laughs, even though none of it happened here.  


“Beppi came to us… Must’ve been years before you were born… Saying his poor carnival was failing. He couldn’t give tickets away. It just couldn’t compete with Sugarland, he said…”  
___  


“So you want it to be more like Sugarland? Whimsical and fun-like?” The Devil said between sips from his scotch glass.  


“Fun-like, yes, Sugarland, no! I don’t want anything to do with the Baroness!” Beppi pouted.  


“I need more business, or I’ll go under!” Despite the serious tone of his words, it was almost impossible to take that silly voice and painted face seriously.  


“Is there anything I can do… Short of selling my soul?”  


“Not that desperate yet, eh?”  


“Unfortunately.”  


The Devil stood, scratching his chin.  


“Well, I think I have something.”  


He approached the shelf of knick-knacks that hung above his minibar. He carefully pushed aside various glass ornaments and ceramic mementos, until he found what he had been looking for. A golden lamp of Arabic design.  


He sat down again, setting the lamp on the table.  


“It’s easy; you rub the lamp, and Djimmi gives you three wishes. I’d be careful, though. He’s a bit dull… And a jokester.”  


Beppi gingerly took the lamp in his gloved hands.  


“What’s the cost?”  


“Oh, nothing. Take it! It’s yours. I used my wishes centuries ago. The poor thing was just rusting on my shelf.”  


“Gosh, thank you! Thank you!” They both stood and shook hands. The deal was done. 

The empty carnival streets on the wooden boardwalk, even in daylight, were eerie to walk through. Beppi clapped his hands together in excitement, then rubbed the lamp. With a dramatic plume of smoke through the lamp’s spout, an orange-skinned genie with blue clothes appeared.  


The smoke disappeared, leaving the genie to rub grit out of his eyes and adjust to the light. He looked down at Beppi.  


“Are you the one who freed Djimmi the Great from his slumber?” His voice was certainly booming and powerful, but not intimidating. Beppi nodded.  


“Djimmi believes a reward is in order! What is your name, kind sir?”  


“Beppi! I need you to help me bring my carnival back to life… Er, pretty please.”  


Djimmi spread his arms wide to stretch.  


“Djimmi can do that easy-peasy. You get three wishes; anything you want, Djimmi will make it so.”  


Beppi smiled, rocking on his heels with excitement.  


“Um, uhh… I want people in this carnival… People on my rides, all the time! The roller coasters packed!”  


Djimmi twisted his head in a circle to release the tension in his neck, then dramatically clapped his hands.  


With a puff of smoke, Beppi looked around, excited to see what had changed. Indeed, the carnival was now bustling with activity. He cheered with joy, seeing the coasters zoom up and down the tracks with a satisfying Doppler effect. But as he approached a coaster, he noticed that it never stopped. The line was long, but nobody ever got off or on.  


“What gives?” Beppi asked.  


“You said you wanted the rides packed all the time, right? They’re not packed all the time if people get off! Then it’s empty!”  


Beppi put his hands to the sides of his head in shock.  


“You’re torturing them!”  


“Djimmi gave you what you asked for. What are your other two wishes, master?” He said, idly looking for dirt in his nails.  


Beppi continued to stare at the roller coaster in horror, but eventually calmed to think.  


“They need… Entertainment. Balloon animals, yes! Yes, I want to be a master at making balloon animals! The best!”  


Djimmi clapped his hands, and with a puff of smoke, Beppi felt… Empty. Inflated. Idle.  


Catching a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors sitting in front of a Fun House, he screamed.  


“What did you do?!”  


“It takes one to know one, doesn’t it? Who better to make balloon animals than a balloon?”  


Beppi stared at himself with a disgusted expression, but was caught off guard when a young girl approached him with a nickel in hand.  


“Can you make a balloon puppy for me?” She asked sweetly. Beppi looked towards Djimmi, who gave a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile. Producing an empty brown balloon, Beppi blew it up, then contorted it into the shape of a dog’s head. He tied a string to the end, then handed it to the girl, who was elated.  


“Thank you, Mister!”  


Perhaps Djimmi wasn’t so bad after all? Beppi started to smile, until the balloon came to life, barking and growling. The girl screamed and ran away, the elastic dog chasing after her.  


Beppi was horrified.  


“Lifelike, aren’t they?” Djimmi added, proud of himself.  


“And what is your final wish, master?”  


Beppi had had enough.  


“Take it back! Take it all back! You’ve done nothing but ruin the carnival!”  


The pipe in Djimmi’s mouth fell, saddened.  


“But sir, I’ve only done what you asked for-”  


“You’re a complete buffoon, is what you are! Who wants a carnival where the rides keep you forever, or the balloons attack you?! They may as well go to Sugarland!”  


Djimmi, who was now soul-shattered, clapped his hands together, and in a puff of smoke, the carnival returned to the empty boardwalk it once was. The rides stopped, and it was silent. Beppi poked his chest to make sure he still had insides.  


“Much better.”  


But he turned to see Djimmi, who was only disappointed in himself. Beppi had no sympathy.  


“Get back in that lamp of yours. I’m taking you back to the Devil.”

\---

“So sorry it didn’t work out, Beppi, I truly am.” The Devil said, glancing at the golden lamp on the desk.  


“I suppose I’ll have to sign a contract with you if I want to get anywhere…”  


“A splendid idea!”  


“I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”  


“Maybe that should have been your first.”

The carnival was alive once more; and this time, without the terrors. Beppi could smile knowing that he was once again an equal competitor to the Baroness, that fiend… The Devil and Beppi shook hands.  


“I’ve fulfilled your requests, and allowed you to keep the benefits of what Djimmi granted.”  


“Thank you so much, Sir!” Beppi said, pleased with the outcome.  


“But there’s just one more thing I should tell you, if we’re all being honest.”  


“What is that?”  


“Djimmi signed a contract with me as well.”  


Beppi gulped. Over the carnival’s fence, Djimmi could be seen waving.  


“So you might as well get accustomed to your new neighbor.”  
___  


King Dice looked at the clock on the wall. Two whole hours? How could he have burned that much time telling stories?  


At least the two boys in front of him seemed to feel better.  


“I should be getting back to work… Before the boss notices you’re here.”  


Cuphead and Mugman shared an “aaaaww…” of disappointment.  


“Just one more?”  


“No, no, not today… But you two aren’t as big of pests as I thought you were. Maybe come in some other day during my lunch break, huh?”  


He pulled a dime from his pocket and flipped it towards the boys. Cuphead caught it in his hand.  


“Go get yourself a couple of sodas before you leave.”  


“Golly, Mister King Dice, thanks!” Cuphead said.  


“Hey, Cuphead, I guess you could say that this dice is loaded!” Mugman snickered. The boys shared a laugh, but King Dice sat with minor disgust from the bad joke.  


“Nevermind. I want my dime back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go ahead and tell me if you want another chapter... I just might add one ',:)


End file.
